


Hunters and Halfwits

by Queen_Valkyrie



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4941496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Valkyrie/pseuds/Queen_Valkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff and Jack have been running for too long. Running from angry villagers, running from vengeful bandits, running from the monsters that roam the forests. But after a particularly drunk night and a chase through the woods, Geoff and Jack come across a kindred spirit and begin an adventure for the ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

Running.

It seemed like that was all they did anymore. They got kicked out of practically every town they came across, and the forest wasn’t safe at night, so all they did was run. And it was just Geoff’s fucking luck that Jack’s damned tiny legs weren’t exactly great for running.

True, he couldn’t exactly blame Jack for being short. The guy was a dwarf, for god’s sake. But Geoff could sure complain about it in his own head.

At least Jack’s impeccable vision was a bonus in the dark forest. And for as pissed off Geoff was that they were running through the murky night and the low-hanging branches again, he supposed Jack had more right to be furious. After all, it was Geoff who had gotten them thrown out of the town this time. And every other time. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He didn’t _want_ to stab that guy in the shoulder. Whiskey just did weird shit to his brain.

“You know,” Jack shouted from right behind Geoff, “If you would just think _not_ to go in the nearest fucking tavern every time we get to a town, maybe we wouldn’t be being chased by a dozen guys with crossbows right now!”

“Thank you, Jack,” Geoff groaned, trying to insert as much sarcasm into his exhausted speak as he could, “I’m aware of that!”

“I’m not asking you to be aware! I’m asking you to actually do something! You can’t keep getting drunk in taverns and expecting us to NOT get thrown out! That’s the definition of insanity, Geoff, doing the same thing and expecting different results!”

“Well I fucking swear, Jack, if we get out of this alive, I won’t even think about the tavern the next three towns we go to!”

“Only three?!”

Geoff groaned and whipped his head around. “Can we argue about this later and survive now, please?”

He heard a faint huff from Jack, barely audible over the approaching sound of hooves.

_God fucking dammit_ , he thought. _They brought horses. Of **course** they brought horses._

“Jack,” he said, panic shaking his voice just slightly, “we gotta hide. And fast.”

The redhead sighed, his voice dripping with annoyance. After a quick scan of the woods, he turned to his companion, his hazel eyes staring upwards. “Then climb.”

Geoff lowered his dark eyebrows and let out a huff. He turned to the nearest tree and jumped, barely catching the low branch. Once he pulled himself up so he was nicely perched on the branch, he grabbed a higher one, and another, and another, until he was completely hidden by the darkness and the needles of the pine tree. He crouched on the thickest part of the branch and slipped a coiled rope off his belt. With a sharp tug, he tied it to the nearest branch and let the rope fall down to where Jack was standing.

It was a good thing, Geoff decided, that Jack was strong from all the time he spent lugging that axe around, because if he had been any later on reaching Geoff’s height and promptly pulling the rope up, they would have been seen.

As the men and their horses thundered past Jack and Geoff’s tree, the warrior let out a long sigh of relief. He adjusted his hardened leather armor so it sat comfortably on his shoulders, ran his fingers through his perfectly curled villain mustache, and leaned back on the trunk of the pine. Jack pulled the hood of his dark green cloak up so it covered his eyes, and his long ginger beard swayed lightly in the breeze that swept through the branches.  
…………………………

Geoff’s eyes had just fluttered closed when a sharp whinny rang through the trees.

“What the hell was that?” Jack started, suddenly alert.

“Sounded like those horses,” Geoff replied, jumping from his branch and landing with a deafening _thud_ onto the half-grass, half-dirt floor of the forest.

A voice echoed through the woods, almost louder than the cry that had escaped the horses. “Oi, hold it there,” it said, high-pitched and oddly accented, “you mingy spaffs!”

Jack and Geoff glanced at each other for a second and took off towards the voice. As they grew closer, they heard the incoherent shouts of the warriors and the unmistakable whoosh of arrows flying through the air.

Jack gripped his battle-axe with both hands as Geoff drew the black metal of his sword from its sheath at his hip. 

Dimly lit by the glow of a dying fire, the partners could see a figure, a longbow in one hand and a quiver on its back, surrounded by at eight of the warriors from the town, with the bodies of the other four lying motionless on the ground, arrows in their chests.

“Not a smart idea, kid,” one of the warriors growled, raising his crossbow.

With a sharp battle cry, Geoff rushed the townsmen as Jack did the same, taking three by surprise and incapacitating them swiftly.

The figure in the middle, an elf by the look of him, let a grin break out across his face as he nocked an arrow and shot it straight into the head of another man.

Geoff rushed the one who had pointed the crossbow at the elf, grabbed the back of his head, slammed him into the ground, and ran his night-black blade into the man's shoulder blades and through his chest.

The elf kid closed one green eye and whipped out two arrows at once, pulling them back in one swift motion. He aimed at the two warriors who were trying to sneak up on him from the side and let his projectiles fly, coating the metal tips of his arrows in blood.

Jack took on the last of the enemies. He grabbed his axe close to the blade and swept the sleek, dark-stained wooden shaft of the weapon under the man's legs, knocking him to the floor of the forest. The man choked out a panicked "No, please-" before the gleaming blade of Jack's battle-axe separated his head from his neck in one brutal slice.

"Jesus Christ," Geoff mumbled, sliding his blade back into its sheath. "That was fuckin' gruesome."

"Well, did you want us to make it out alive or not?"

"Hey, I'm not judging, buddy. I'm just saying. Damn."

They were interrupted by the clearing of a throat. The elf stared at them, a nervous smile creeping its way across his cheeks. He was tall. Taller than Jack (obviously), and probably a couple inches taller than Geoff too, and his limbs were long and gangly. Geoff thought elves were supposed to be these graceful beings, but now that he wasn’t in combat, he looked completely awkward.

He also might have been a good-looking guy if not for the giant nose that nearly took up his entire face.

“Thanks for the help, mates,” the elf chuckled, running a hand through his short, dirty blonde hair. “I’d be dead if not for you guys.”

“No problem,” Geoff replied. “They tried to kill us earlier anyways.”

Jack stuck out one hand to the elf boy who towered over him. “I’m Jack, and that’s Geoff.”

The kid took his hand and nodded, still grinning like an idiot. “The name’s Gavin.”


	2. The Changeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff and Jack aren't the only one's who've been running. Not far away, there's another destined to join their group who's fleeing as well. A thief. A changeling. His name?
> 
> Ryan.

Running.

There was nothing that Ryan hated more than getting caught and having to run. Again. Sure, he wasn’t found out often, but when he was… People got angry. Viciously angry.

And sure, maybe stealing was a crime. But he couldn’t help it. Some people were just so easy. And for as much as he hated getting caught, he loved the feeling of absolute control when nobody suspected a damn thing.

As Ryan’s feet thudded softly against the ground of the forest, he could hear the shouting and the crackling of torches behind him. _An angry mob_ , he thought. _That’s a new high. Usually they just send a couple guys with swords or bows. Never gotten a whole mob before._

He guessed he had probably robbed somebody rich if they sent a whole mob after him. Reaching his arm backwards, he grabbed the pack that he had previously slung over his shoulders and peeked inside.

Not much variety here. Just a couple chunks of dried meat, a water skin, and the biggest sack of gold he had ever seen. _Score_ , he grinned. If nothing else went well today, at least he got the money. And a shit-ton of money at that.

The woods were dark tonight. Darker than he remembered them being in a while. And as he waded through the brush and the low-hanging branches, the air felt… heavy. What it was heavy with, he wasn’t sure. When he was a kid, he would’ve hoped the feeling that was twisting his gut was destiny. But Ryan was an adult now, and destiny was for starry-eyed children without a sense of reality. Still, he wasn’t stupid, and he had learned by now that trusting his gut was typically a smart thing to do. There were probably monsters around, and he needed to hide. Fast.

He found a nearby tree with particularly low branches and pulled himself up. Once he was hidden by the leaves and the murky blackness of the night, he let himself settle onto a thick branch and rest until morning.  
................

Unfortunately, Ryan’s beauty sleep was interrupted by an ear-splitting whinny a good distance away. He perched himself on the branch and listened. There was a voice shouting something, too far away to comprehend the words.

He decided to investigate. His arms gripping the rough bark of the branches, he gently let himself drop onto the dirt floor of the forest. As it was approaching midnight, the woods were even darker now than upon his entrance, but he did have some semblance of night vision, and so he was able to weave his way through the thick cover of trees without difficulty.

Whatever battle had gone on was a good distance away, and by the time Ryan got to the site of the struggle, everything had died down. He could see a dozen corpses shoved into a messy pile near the base of a tree, and three figures were curled up (if not asleep yet, then certainly close to it) around the nearly-dead embers of a campfire.  
As quietly as he was able to, Ryan slipped again into the cover of the trees.

When he heard faint snoring from one of the people, he climbed out of the tree and crept closer to the figures, attempting to observe if any of them could be easily stolen from.

There were two men leaning up against one of the trees nearby to Ryan’s, and from the comfortability that they seemed to give off near each other, he could tell that they were at the least long-time acquaintances, if not friends. To impersonate either would be a risky move, and Ryan really wasn’t in the mood to be recognized twice in two days.

The figure on the other side of the fire looked considerably younger than the human and the dwarf, and judging from the height and the ears, was definitely an elf. Ryan knew he wouldn’t be sleeping as far from the others as he was if they were more familiar. So the elf was Ryan’s best bet.

From the pouches on his belt, Ryan slipped out a small vial of clear liquid and placed it just under the elf’s nose. After inhaling the fumes, the boy’s body shifted from the tense, asleep-but-still-alert state it was in into a limp and perfectly incapacitated form. Grabbing the elf by the ankles, Ryan dragged him a good distance away and tied him firmly to a tree, gagging him for good measure. After snatching the bow and quiver slung across the kid’s back, Ryan placed his palm onto the elf’s forehead.  
Morphing was a bit of an odd feeling, but Ryan had done it so much recently that he had gotten used to it.

He fluttered his eyes open and stared at his new form, taller and longer-limbed than his regular body. He also thanked whatever god was listening that he could change his appearance; nobody in their right mind would ever consider wanting such a nose. The clothes may have been a little off, but it was dark, and he doubted the human and the dwarf would notice. For good measure, he slipped the bottle of chloroform under the elf’s nose again, and crept back to the dead fire pit, curling up and getting to sleep.   
.....................

“Gavin,” a rough voice said, shaking Ryan. “Gav, get up.”

It was the warrior, the human. He stared down at Ryan with his shrewd, dark eyes and slapped him on the arm.

Ryan let out a tired groan and sat up from the ground. “Morning,” he managed to mumble, and the warrior lowered his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“I’m gonna wake up Jack,” he replied, motioning a hand in the direction of the dwarf. He moved out of sight, and Ryan heard a deep voice, heavy with sleep. “It’s fucking early, Geoff,” the dwarf, Jack, muttered.

Ryan almost chuckled out loud at the wonderful stupidity of muscle-bound fighters like these two, giving him both their names in a span of seconds. With neither paying attention, the changeling peered into the rucksack he had stolen from the elf (Gavin, they had called him). While there was considerably less money than his score from the previous night, there was a good deal more food, and a couple of knives which Ryan planned to add to his ever-growing collection. He pulled out a block of hard cheese and some bread, and was about to bite into them when the human and the dwarf emerged from behind the cover of the trees.

Jack, the redheaded dwarf, had his hazel eyes narrowed, but whether in suspicion or fatigue, Ryan wasn’t entirely sure.

“Good morning, Gavin,” he said curtly, his deep voice reminding the changeling of his own. 

Ryan gave a slight nod and replied, “Jack. How’re you?”

The dwarf chuckled and sat across the fire pit from Ryan, pulling some bread and dried meat out of his own pack, some of which he kept for himself and some of which he handed off to Geoff. “Hungry as fuck. How about yourself?”

Ryan responded by taking a bite of his bread and cheese. “Exactly the same.”

They ate in silence until Geoff’s dark eyes met the changelings. “So Gavino, where you from?”

“All over, really,” Ryan replied. “My family lives in the Belleford forests about a hundred-sixty or so miles from here, but I’ve been traveling all over for a couple years. Never really been able to settle down.”

“I get that feeling,” the warrior muttered, almost sentimental for half of a second.

As Ryan finished the last bite of his cheese, he figured now was as good a time as any to make a break for it. “I’ll be right back,” he lied through his teeth. “I’m just gonna go relieve myself real quick.”

Both men stood up quickly at that, too quickly for Ryan’s liking.

“I’ll go with you,” the dwarf said.

Ryan let out a nervous huff. “That’s a little close for comfort, don’t you think, Jack?”

The two shared an unmistakable but split-second glance, and then Geoff was grabbing Ryan by the front of his shirt and slamming him stomach-up into the hard dirt floor of the forest. He shoved one foot on Ryan’s chest so the changeling couldn’t get back up, and shoved the point of his black blade into Ryan’s throat.

“Holy shit, man,” Ryan panicked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You think we’re fucking stupid?” The warrior snarled, the curl of his upper lip bringing his impressive villain mustache up to touch his nose. “Who in the hell are you?”

“Jesus, Geoff, it’s Gavin!”

“You lie to me, monster, and I’ll only kill you quicker. I know you’re not Gav. Now who and _what_ are you?”

Ryan did nothing but stare into the dark eyes of the warrior. In one swift motion, he slipped out a knife that he kept attached to his belt and thrust it into Geoff’s leg.

The warrior let out a sharp cry of pain and dropped his sword, reaching down to clutch at the wound in his calf. 

Ryan, faster than he had ever done so before, clambered off of the ground and started running, as far away from the pair as he could get. He heard Geoff shouting incessantly behind him, but didn’t even bother to look back. His breaths were heaving in his chest, and he had just morphed back into his own appearance when something running at lightning speed slammed into him.

It was the elf, and once again Ryan was pinned to the damp and grassy floor.

“That’s my shit you stole, you first-class wanker!” the real Gavin cried, his voice cracking.

_You’re fucking kidding me._

The changeling glared into the elf’s green eyes and refused to move a single muscle, refraining from even blinking. Eventually Jack and Geoff joined the other pair, the dwarf running and the warrior limping, a makeshift bandage tying his wound shut.

“Next time you shapeshift, _freak_ ,” Geoff growled. “Try picking somebody without the most obnoxious fucking accent in the free world.”

Gavin let out a little giggle. “Free,” he mumbled.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Ryan replied, trying to make his voice as threatening as possible with the shallow breaths he was taking. “And would you get the hell off me, I’m tryin’ to breathe here,” he snarled at Gavin.

The elf rolled his eyes and replied, sarcasm lacing his heavily-accented voice, “Oh, god, I’m real sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.” He glared at Geoff’s bleeding leg, the insult in his statement not lost on the changeling, and snatched his bow, quiver, and pack from Ryan.

Gavin did manage to slide off of Ryan’s chest, leaving him room to breathe, but Geoff’s sword was at the changeling’s throat again, and Ryan rolled his blue eyes.

“Oh,” Geoff continued, “And while we’re here, why don’t you give me a reason not to end your miserable little life _right fucking now_?”

Ryan full-on laughed at that, a proper, long, supervillain laugh. “That one’s too easy.” He looked the warrior dead in the eyes and grinned, making sure to let as many teeth show as possible. “I’m a thief, Geoff. And a goddamn changeling. Anything you want, I can get it for you. Anything in the entire world.”

“You really do think we’re stupid, don’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We let you go to ‘steal’ something for us, and all you’re gonna fucking do is book it out of here and stay as far away from us as possible. And then I’ll have let you off for nothing.”

Ryan lowered his eyebrows and glared his hardest at Geoff. “Well. Do you have a better solution?”

“Yeah. You stay with us.”

“Until?”

“Until we find something worth letting you live for.”

As much as Ryan wanted to pull out another knife and stab Geoff again, the other two were poised and ready, Gavin with one arrow drawn and Jack with his battle-axe gleaming over Ryan’s neck. “Fine,” he snarled in reply.

Geoff sheathed his sword and extended a hand to pull Ryan back up. But as he did, he brought the changeling in close so their noses were almost touching. “But don’t forget, changeling, you try anything funny, and none of us will think twice about running you through. So you play by our rules or you die. Capiche?”

Ryan tugged his hand away and looked the warrior dead in the eyes. “Capiche.”

“Then welcome to the fucking gang,” Geoff said, raising one eyebrow at the changeling, questioning for a name.

“Ryan.”


	3. Drunken Backstories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hours of walking and a bottle of whiskey, the gang reveals a little bit of their lives...  
> And their losses.

After the short break the gang took for lunch later that day, they continued trekking through the forest, looking for somewhere suitable to settle down. Most of the time was spent in silence, with Geoff and Ryan shooting each other distrusting glares. Every so often, Gavin, whose long strides kept him at the front of the group, would turn to the others and pose a stupid scenario for a lot of money.

“Would you take,” he started up again, “ten million dollars… But for the rest of your life, there’s a snail chasing you, and if it touches you, you die?”

Geoff let out a cackle. “Where the hell do you come up with this shit, Gav?”

“Would you do it or not?”

The warrior furrowed his dark eyebrows. “I think I’d just kill the snail.”

“Oh, no, the snail’s immortal. _And_ ,” he added, sticking one long finger up like he’d just come up with the idea, “You can’t contain the snail indefinitely.”

“ _Fuck_. Ten million dollars?”

“Ten million dollars.”

Geoff ran one hand through his mustache. “Fuck it. Yeah, I’d take that.”

“Has there been one you haven’t taken yet, Geoff?” Ryan added.

“You’ve taken ‘em all too, Mr. Greedy-Two-Shoes.”

“You sure you’re one to call names, I-can’t-keep-walking-this-armor-is-stiff-as-dicks?”

“Lying, no-good thief.”

“Drunkard.”

“Creepy motherfucker.”

“Useless--”

“Alright guys, cut it out,” Jack groaned. “It’s getting dark, and if you’re arguing, you’re not looking for a place to stop.”

“He started it,” the changeling and the warrior complained in unison.

“I don’t give a shit who started it. I’m ending it. Now shut up.”

With a huff from Ryan and a low groan from Geoff, the group descended into quiet once again. Jack wasn’t sure how long it was until they stopped walking, but it _seemed_ like hours, and the forest, which had been bathed in the salmon-colored glow of sunset, was dark and deadly.

Ryan’s deep voice echoed from the blackness behind Jack. “There’s a clearing a few hundred feet to the southeast. Should be big enough to start a fire.”

Jack let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. Let’s make camp.”

They reached the middle of the clearing, and Jack and Gavin gathered firewood, forming a makeshift bonfire. Jack slipped the flint and steel out of one of the pockets on the inside of his cloak. After a couple tries, the sparks that flew off the metal caught onto the wood, and the orange-yellow light of the fire crackled into life.

Geoff flopped down next to the warmth of the fire and sighed, long and low and tired. The rest of the group gathered in a circle, and as they all sat, Geoff pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his bag.

“I’m too sober for sleep,” he muttered, taking a long, hard swig. He swallowed the liquor without even flinching, and handed the bottle off to Ryan.

“I don’t drink,” Ryan commented, glaring at the caramel-colored liquid.

“I beg your _pardon_?”

“I don’t drink.”

Geoff let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, you do tonight. Drink,” he said, pointing at the changeling.

Ryan rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle, bringing the mouth to his lips. “Shit,” he groaned after swallowing the whiskey, “That tastes terrible.”

He passed the bottle to Gavin, who drank and gave it to Jack.

They cycled the bottle around the circle until it was empty, and Jack’s vision had started to get hazy.

“So Ryan,” Gavin yawned, “Where you from?”

“I already told you,” Ryan groaned.

“What? No you didn’t.”

“Oh, I guess you were tied up for that part.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Whatever, man, I gave you your stuff back. But there’s a town just outside the Belleford forests. It’s like…” He blinked his blue eyes a couple times and rubbed his head. “Fuck. I forgot how far away it is. But, yeah, I live there. Or I used to. I only go back every couple of months now.”

“You got a family?”

“Wife and two kids. But there’s not a lot of work for… people like me. Everyone thought I was some kind of thief. So I did what I gotta so my family get by. Guess I became exactly what they assumed I was.”

Gavin grinned. “You’re like Robin Hood, Ryan. Robbing the rich to feed the poor.”

“I don’t feed the poor. I feed my family.”

Geoff sat up from the ground. “At least you see your family.”

“Geoff, you’ve got a family?” the elf inquired.

“I got a wife. Haven’t seen her in... Jesus, like eight fucking years.”

“Why not?”

“Never could settle down. Griffon knew that when we got married.”

“You could have just taken her with you,” Ryan mused. “Not like you got two kids to take care of.”

“She didn’t wanna go. Jesus, I wish she would’ve. Sometimes I wish I’d have just picked her up and taken her with me and gone on adventures together. Don’t really know why I didn’t.”

“Why don’t you go back if you miss her so much?”

Geoff stared at the changeling, and Jack could see the regret in his drunken eyes. “It’s been eight years. I don’t think I can.”

“Course you can,” Gavin corrected. “She’s your wife. You’ve got somebody to go back to no matter what. Consider yourself lucky.”

“What, like you don’t have any family left, Gavino?”

“Not any worth mentioning. I fucking hated my family,” the elf admitted, his accented voice low. “I ran away from them when I was seven.”

“You’ve been on your own since you were _seven_?”

“I lived in a human village for a while after I ran away. I even had a friend there. Practically a brother. Jesus, we did everything together.”

“So what happened?”

“He…” Gavin’s breath hitched in his throat. “Died. When I was twelve. Bandits came and burned his house down, and his mum got out, but Michael got trapped under some of the wood, and the others wouldn’t let his mum or me go in to rescue him, ‘cause it was too dangerous. When the fire died out, I went in to look for him. But his body was beyond saving. I couldn’t even recognize him, he was so burned up. So after that, I just left. Been running ever since.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gav, I’m so sorry,” the warrior whispered.

“Why’re you apologizing? You didn’t fucking burn the Jones’ house down.”

Jack stared at the elf, noticing the pools of angry tears forming in his green eyes. “I think,” he murmured, “We’re all tired.”

Geoff laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

And with that, the matter was settled, and they all lay down to sleep.


End file.
